Jennifer
by Jason Layton
Summary: The background to When The Lights Go Out. This story is complete, but I may take a while to upload it as When The Lights Go Out needs telling first and isn't finished.
1. Chapter 1

Sir Herbert had retired to bed, his headaches weren't getting better, and although the Doctor had told him they were just stress related he'd had trouble believing her. Who wouldn't be a little stressed and tired in a house that had for the last 3 weeks contained his fiancée, his daughter, his Grandsons, his son in law and his son in laws lover. All of whom seemed to think Christmas was a time for family arguments .He had of course insisted on the Baker Street Family coming for Christmas, after all they had spent last year with the horrendous Holmes family. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy having a house full, he just wanted some time on his own, in his room.

Lucy had been quite relieved when her Father had gone to bed; it had given her an opportunity to retire herself. She didn't return to her bedroom however, but instead walked to the old nursery at the far side of the house, to Nelly's old rooms and threw up violently in the old Victorian bathroom. She had fought the rising urge to vomit for about 5 hours, but it was New Year's Eve and they had guests. However as her Father was about to miss the ringing of the changes, she was sure it was acceptable if she did. Sitting on the cold tiled floor, with her head resting on the wooden toilet see, she sniffed miserably, it had to be that melon she had this morning.

At midnight, as the bells clanged, John and Sherlock shared a luxurious kiss. Sir Herbert's guests were much more open minded than Lady Holmes', in fact John had been pleasantly surprised when Sir Herbert had clapped him on the back and introduced him as Sherlock and Lucy's lover to his guests, and his guests had accepted their ménage a trois as perfectly normal. In fact Sir Herbert had explained that John would find the Blengindale much more liberal than the Holmes Manor, a fact which went somewhere to explain Lucy's personality. John looked round for Lucy, only to receive a snort of derision from Sherlock, and the information that she had left.

Sherlock had noticed Lucy slinking off, but then he had noticed she'd been feeling ill all evening. He assumed it was something she'd eaten at first, she'd been pale and quiet since the afternoon, but running through the day in his mind, he couldn't think of anything that would have made her sick. His mind had drawn a blank however, and he'd paid it little further attention. Sherlock concentrated instead on John as he made his way around the room. John was happier in the more liberal setting, wearing his trademark jumper; he mingled happily with the assembled guests. Sherlock just kept staring at his partner; he still couldn't believe the depth of his feeling. John had started talking to the head teacher of Blingindale Primary when Lucy suddenly came back to the forefront of his mind, the woman had started asking after Simon when something clicked in Sherlock's mind…Oh.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks after New Year's, John was back working at the surgery, filing through a day list which contained nothing more exciting than sniffles and sick notes, when his eyes rested on a name just before lunch. "Maria Smith", appointment type "Private". Unlike the first time she'd done this to him, John now knew most of Lucy's alias, and this was her favourite by far. So he spent the morning wondering why she had made an appointment to see him at work, normally this was because she didn't want Sherlock to find out, or genuinely wanted medical help.

At 12.30 he asked reception to send her through, and after a few moments the door knocked. He hadn't seen her that morning; she'd been sleeping in her own room at the top of the house. As she came through the door, he wondered when the last time he'd actually looked at her properly was. Sherlock had been given a case on New Year's Day and he and John had been gone for a week, when they returned Lucy had been sleeping upstairs. He hadn't really thought anything about it, especially when Simon had told him she'd been unwell. However the creature stood in the doorway looked awful, surely he thought, he should have noticed.

"Come in Lucy" he called to her "what are the symptoms?"

"Actually John, I…I…I think I know what's wrong?" she stammered "erm but …."

"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly very concerned

"I think I'm pregnant" the words rushed out and ended with a sob.

John looked at her for moment, unbelieving and then his brain started racing, thoughts swam so fast he couldn't capture one coherent thought.

"You have an implant?" he floundered

"Yes, as my Doctor do you think you could check this out, is it possible?"

"Well it's not unheard of, I'll take some blood and then I'll get one of the nurses to remove the implant."

"John?"

"hmm?"

"Am I pregnant?"

"You're being sick? You're late? You've had unprotected sex since your last period?"

She coughed and looked him in the eye, causing him to blush again.

"Shall we just say it sounds likely? Would you have any idea…I mean…which…Oh God!"

"No, and I haven't told Sherlock."

"He'll know"

"Yes I suppose."


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock had known, of course he'd known, Lucy was surprised he hadn't told her, revelled in the fact he knew she was pregnant before herself or their Doctor. The embarrassing moment for her had come when both Sherlock and John had tried to date the pregnancy. Sitting on their respective chairs, while she lay on the sofa feeling queasy, the men had counted back 5 weeks and hit on the event.

It was a couple of days before they left for East Sussex, Sherlock had just solved a big private case, and Lucy had just finished her pre-Christmas lectures. They had met by chance close to Lucy's Gower Street flat, and as she was clearing her things back to Baker Street, John had told Sherlock they were going to help.

She knew what was going to happen the second Sherlock agreed, he never agreed to help unless sex was on the cards. Her apartment was compact, just a tiny wet room and a bedsit kitchen. On the small breakfast table to the left of the door was piled her laptop and lecture notes, as he strode through the door, Sherlock picked the pile up and deposited the whole thing into an open plastic box balanced on a kitchen chair beside the table.

He stalked towards his wife, who suddenly found herself between the bulk of John whose back was pressed against the closed front door, and her lust filled husband. She backed into John who closed his arms round her, placing his lips close to her ear and blowing gently. Sherlock ripped his scarf from his neck and threw it on the table, before placing his arms around her and kissing her deeply.

"You know we've never actually had sex here?" He whispered into her mouth, fondling Johns arse as he pulled them together, crushing his lovers burgeoning erection into his wife.

Lucy gasped for breath, aroused to a blushing height, she turned her head away "First time for everything?" she gasped

John captured Sherlocks lips, with Lucy still crushed behind them, as she undid Sherlocks buttons, he pulled her dress apart "Too many clothes" he sighed, rubbing himself against her "far far too many clothes".

Sherlock lifted her up, and she wrapped her long pale legs around his waist, throwing her head back and laughing. The shreds of her yellow sundress fell away as he carried her across the room and dumped her on the bed.

Lucy looked up at the two barely clothed men as they stared down at her, a moment of chill fear ran through her "do you have a plan for me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Actually we do" Sherlock told her, smiling at her cleverness as he dispose of his suit trousers.

"We have read an interesting story this week" John smiled carefully removing his jeans and folding them, placing them on the sofa.

Lucy shuffled on the bed, devoiding herself of the rest of her clothes, staring wide eyed at the two naked men, whose erections where now blatantly displayed. "For the case? You read something on the case you want to try on me?"

"Yes" John told her coming to the bed and lying beside her, placing kisses across her breasts and neck "Do you trust us? Do you mind if we…experiment?" he asked.

"No" she moaned as his hand dropped down to her wetness and he started to finger the petals of her vagina apart.

Lucy spent the next pleasurable few minute being the centre of the two men's attention, her mind didn't seem to want to dwell on what was actually happening, she kept wondering about how out of character Sherlock was being, carefully seemingly concentrating on putting her into a lather. He was asking John's help, and doing everything the older man asked him too. Eventually it got to the point where Lucy's head was swimming and she could feel her juices dripping down her thighs. Then John picked her up by her waist and pulled her on top of him, as he entered her deeply he pulled her forward so they were kissing.

Lucy moaned into John's mouth and was aware of Sherlock moving behind her, she gasped as Sherlock put his hands around her, effectively pushing her further forward till only the head of Johns penis remained inside her. Her eyes opened wide as she felt Sherlock pushed his own erection beside Johns and entered her as well.

"What?" she groaned but John silenced her with a deeper kiss.

Sat on the sofa Lucy groaned again, as the two men stared at her, and then each other.

"It could be either of us?" John said "We wouldn't have a clue?"

"Not till it's born anyway" Sherlock told him.

"Do we want to know?" Lucy asked "I mean does it matter?"

"I suppose it doesn't?" John said.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy phoned her Father the next day, expecting him to be delighted she was expecting again. The first time she phoned there was no answer, not even the staff answered the phone. The second time the ringing phone had been answered by the Estate Manager , who himself was concerned. Apparently there was no sign of Sir Herbert, or the Canadian, or the staff. No note had been left and the house had been locked up tight. Lucy's mind had immediately jumped to a sinister explanation, not the deductive genius of her husband, or the empathic sensualist of her lover, her mind would normally find the darkest of dark solutions to any mystery.

Sitting behind her desk, having tried her Fathers mobile and discovering it was turned off, she considered her options. She could stick her carefully hidden head over the precipice and use her not insignificant personal contacts to find out what exactly was happening. This was tempting, and certainly seemingly the quickest, but there was a reason she kept her personal and professional life so very separate. She of course could try Mycroft, she assumed he kept tabs of ex-government ministers, but she tried to avoid contacting the elder Holmes if at all possible. Then there was of course her husband.

Part of Lucy's brain knew that her biggest ally was the consulting detective, if you suspect the worse having a genius private detective in the family had to be a bonus but unfortunately engaging him in something he didn't want to do, could be a fools errand. She also knew he was on a case, a series of poisons in and around Pimlico, she could imagine John's blog entry now. So phoning up or even texting would just make him ignore her. It seemed unfair to text John for the same reason, which left just one line of help. One person who might be able to help, she found a number in her diary, spread across a number of pages, hidden inside quotes and text references.

He took a telephone from the bottom drawer of her desk, she kept a number of them for this sort of thing. The phone rang once and a comforting soft irish lilt on the end of the phone answered.

"Lady Devlin, what a pleasure?" the man answered

"Are you busy James?" she asked, affecting her own Irish accent

"Chun tú mo chroí? Ná" he told her "What is it you need?" his voice was as soft as a lovers.

"I need to find my Father James." She told him unable to stop smiling at the gentleness of his words, and his seductive voice, "he appears to have gone missing?"

"Can't you ask your BORING husband?" he asked acidly.

"I could, but then I'd much rather ask you" she smiled again, dropping her voice "you and I are after all cut from the same cloth."


	5. Chapter 5

James Moriarty stood by the railings overlooking a small provincial park, the melting snow picked out in the darkening afternoon light. He watched the retreating school children, and in return got a suspicious look from some mothers who had spotted the dark man in a suit, he wasn't trying to hide, what was the point he was waiting after all, and for once was doing nothing wrong.

"James!" she called making him turn, nobody makes him turn he thought stupidly as he did. She was waving and smiling, and looked nothing like the last time he'd seen her oddly.

"You called" he smiled "I'm here"

She waved her Waitrose bag for life at him, "sorry I'm late, I did some splurging."

He looked at her oddly, and then smiled "you stole a credit card?"

"I stole the whole goddamn you id" she smiled "and their car."

"Oh you are...wicked" he laughed

"That's why you like me"

"And what about your husband?" he asked

"He's on a case, nothing to do with me, so I assume it's one of your minions?" she told him "But I'd rather not talk about Sherlock, if it's all the same to you."

"Oh, has he done something wrong, is there trouble in paradise?"

"I'm pregnant"

That floored him for a moment, he had little understanding of human emotions, except how to manipulate them. So he was confused by her statement, and looked for some clarification.

"Is he not pleased? You obviously rut like animals surely he knew it was a possibility?"

"I don't know I don't care" she told him "I'm miserable, I don't which of them knocked me up, and I'm not happy at spending another year feeling sick and miserable and unable to do what I want."

"My heart bleeds " he sneered "poor little rich girl, unable to play cops and robbers..."

He was stopped by the prick of a knife at his side, "shut the fuck up Jimmy, I might be playing this little game with you, I might have taken an interest in your piddling problems, but I call the shots, and I don't take kindly to being mocked, understand?"

"Yes Ma'am" he said quietly, breathing out as the knife was withdrawn.

"So have you found my Father?" she said, smiled plastered back on her face.

"Yes and no" he shrugged "He's not in the country, apparently he and his female friend have gone to Vegas."

"Vegas?"

"Apparently" he shrugged "They went yesterday morning, 3am flight from Filton, Bristol"

"Private jet?"

"Yep" he shrugged and handed her a folder with pictures and a flight plan "So Lady Devlin, what have you got for me?"


End file.
